It's Killing Him, 20MGs at a Time
by ihadtoputitsomewhere
Summary: Stiles develops an addiction to Adderall. His friends and family want to help, but you can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped.
1. Chapter 1

D-Amphetamine Salt Combination. 20mg. One pill every morning by mouth, never on an empty stomach. That's how it was supposed to go. That's how it did go…for a while. But even WebMD can tell you that Adderall is addictive. It can make you go days without sleep. You can plow through homework like nobody's business. It lets you focus on one thing for more than 30 seconds at a time. It makes you seem…normal. You feel normal. Sounds great…right?

I had been on Adderall since I was eight, right after my mom died. I was a scrawny pale kid, but the pills seemed to help with a lot…the stress, the inability to stay focused and sit still. It was good. It became familiar, a habit, part of a routine. I would wake up, shower, brush my teeth, get dressed, eat breakfast with my dad, take the Adderall, and then catch the bus to school with Scott. It was easy. It was what I grew up doing. Then things got okay, I didn't seem to need Adderall on the daily. I took it less and less, and eventually stopped all together. I though I was okay, I thought I was normal. Then I hit high school.

I got swamped with papers and projects and worksheets and textbook readings. I didn't have time to get off the bus with Scott and hang out at his house and eat everything in his fridge before walking home and doing the same to mine. I went straight home, said hey to my dad and then holed up in my room, doing homework and studying until the early hours of the morning. Some days I forgot to eat dinner at all, but would be too tired to drag myself down the stairs and make something. So I learned to fall asleep to the sound of my growling stomach, and the weight of a textbook lying open on my chest.

A few weeks ago, (or was it only yesterday?) I was rummaging through the medicine cabinet in my dad's bathroom for some Advil. The headache had shown up right at the beginning of Economics 4th period, and had gotten progressively worse as the day went on. What I stumbled upon, however, wasn't a painkiller, but rather an old bottle of ADHD meds. _My _old ADHD meds. I read over the label; my real first name taking up more than half of the name section. I read the directions, the side affects, and finally the purpose of use. The three ways to describe my personality were crammed into the small space on the label: "Hyperactivity, Anxiety, and Inability to Focus." Below that, was something much more interesting and unfamiliar: "This drug may also be used to treat certain sleeping disorders, (narcolepsy) and help patient stay awake during the day."

I smiled to myself, because this is exactly what I needed. I needed to stay on top of my school load, and to do that, I needed to stay awake. It was perfect. I had taken these before, hadn't I? I knew what they did to me, as well as what they did _for me._ I shoved the bottle in my back pocket before digging further in the cabinet for any more bottles I might not have finished as a kid. I pulled out three more, each with a decent amount of capsules in them. They were all the same; D-Amphetamine Salt Combination. 20mg. One pill every morning by mouth, never on an empty stomach. I opened one of the bottles and placed a pill in my mouth, swallowing it dry. It was easy, like muscle memory.

I closed the cabinet and walked back to my bedroom, forgetting about the headache that seemed irrelevant now. I sat on my bed and placed all four pill bottles in front of me. I opened them one by one, dumping the pills in a small heap on my sheets. I began counting…1,2,3...all the way up to 47. 48, if you include the pill I just swallowed. It was a good amount, they should have lasted me at least a month and a half.

They didn't. Here I was, 3 weeks later. I sat on my bed, binders sprawled out and worksheets sticking out of closed textbooks. Four empty bottles lined up in front of me. 46 pills in 21 days. The last one was in my hand, rolling around as I cupped and uncupped my palm. _Here we go._ I thought as I threw the small capsule into my mouth. I swallowed, and it was gone. I immediately felt strange…alone almost. Like I my best friend had just left town for a week. The worst part was…I wasn't even thinking about what I had to be doing to my body, or the chemical levels in my brain. All I could think about was how I was going to get more.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and looked up the number for our local pharmacy. I held my finger over the screen. _Are we really gonna do this, Stiles? _I thought to myself. I looked around at the textbooks and the binders and the empty worksheets that needed to be filled out. _Yeah. We're really gonna do this._ I tapped the number and brought the phone to my ear. I took a deep breath as I listened to the steady ring.

"Beacon Hills Pharmaceutical, how can I help you?"

"Good afternoon," I began. "I'm calling on behalf of my son to refill a prescription."

"Okay, and what is the name?"

"Stilinski."

"Alright, give me one second…" I could here her typing though the phone. I moved the phone away from my mouth and took another deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. "It says here that the last prescription refill was over 9 years ago. Is that a mistake?"

"No, no that's correct. We took him off of the medication when we thought he would be okay without it, but recently he has started to slip into old habits, and we would like to see if the medication will help him like it did when he was younger."

"I see. Let me double check something with my manager here, and I'll let you know what we can do. Sound okay?"

"Yes, that's alright."

"Alright, stay on the line, I'm going to put you on hold for just a moment."

She clicked a button, and cheesy elevator music began playing on a loop through the phone. I put it on speaker and placed my phone on my bed. I stared at it pathetically for the next 8 minutes, trying to somehow will the pharmacist to come back on the line.

"Mr. Stilinski?" I jumped and grabbed at my phone, nearly dropping it as I did so. I turned it off speaker and pressed it to my ear.

"Yes, hello."

"You're all set, the prescription will be ready for you to pick up within the next 24 to 48 hours. All there is left to do is the bill. Can you give me your address? Your card may still be in the system, even after almost a decade."

I chuckled, trying to sound as much like my dad as possible. "The address is—"

"Oh! Hold on, we actually already have your information. Not very many Stilinskis in this town. Would you like to put it under your name or Claudia's?"

"Mine, put it under mine."

"Okay! You're all set. Come by to pick up your son's prescription anytime after the next 24 hours."

"Wonderful. Thanks for your help."

"My pleasure, have a good rest of the day."

"You too." I hung up.

_Did I really just do that? Holy shit._ I grinned, though no one was around to see it.

24 hours. Only one day. I could afford to lay off for one day…

Right?

**More to come!**


	2. Chapter 2

I couldn't sit still. I was bouncing my knee and fidgeting with my hands and staring at the clock above the door. Each passing minute felt like eternity. 11 minutes left of class. 11 minutes left until the end of the day. 11 minutes until I could get in my Jeep and go get my Adderall refill at the pharmacy. Only 11 minutes.

"Mr. Stilinski!" My teacher boomed.

"Y—uh-huh?" I jumped in my chair and stumbled over my own words. I tore my eyes away from the clock and onto the teacher. "Sorry, um…what was the question?"

"Just if you were paying attention, which you obviously weren't. Try to stay with us?"

"I will…sorry." It took all of my willpower not to look at the clock. People say that time passes slower when you're watching the seconds tick by.

My knee bounced. My hands shook. My foot tapped. My pen clicked.

Finally, the bell rang signaling the end of the class, as well as the end of the school day. I shoved my history binder into my backpack and got up without bothering to zip it shut. I was almost out the door when someone grabbed my shoulder and held me back. I turned around to see Scott, with a worried look plastered on his face.

"Dude, are you okay? You're looking really tired." He asked.

"I'm fine, just…you know, homework's been piling up lately." I lied.

"Are you sure? You honestly look like you haven't slept all week. Is there something you need to—"

"No." I cut him off. "Scott, I'm fine. Really. Just a little tired is all. I'll be good though. Don't worry about it okay man?" Scott pressed his lips into a straight line before patting my shoulder a few times.

"You know if there's something going on…you can tell me. I won't judge."

"I know. I do. I know that. And I would…if there was anything going on. But there isn't. Don't worry about me, okay?"

Scott nodded once. "Okay. Hey, do you want to grab something to eat real quick? I could inhale 5 burgers right about now."

"Aw, I wish. Dad's making me pick up some kind of medication for him, so I gotta get to the pharmacy before they close. But we'll meet up later?"

"For sure. See you later bro."

"See you Scott."

I managed to pick up the pills without being questioned by the staff. The bottle lie in the passenger seat as I drove home. The normally short drive seemed to take forever, despite the multiple stop signs I blew through. I pulled into the driveway, relieved to see my dad's patrol car absent. That meant he'd probably gotten the night shift and wouldn't be home until really late. As soon as I walked through the door, I ran up to my room and sat down on my bed. I twisted the lid off of the bottle and dumped the pills onto my sheets. I began counting…1,2,3…30 tablets of D-Amphetamine Salt Combination. 20mg. One pill every morning by mouth, never on an empty stomach. I scooped two pills into my hand and tossed them back, swallowing both without water. I closed my eyes and sighed in relief, immediately feeling a calm wash over me like a tidal wave. I took out my math textbook, and began working on the bottomless pit of homework.

The next time I looked at the clock, it was 4:37 in the morning. _What the hell? That cant be right._ I pulled out my phone and double-checked the time. It was the same. _Shit. I stayed up all night. _It wasn't even worth going to bed at this point; I have to wake up for school in 2 hours anyway. I went downstairs, hopefully to find something to eat, only to find my dad laying on the couch, with papers scattered all over himself and the floor, his pen still in his hand. He woke at the sound of my footsteps and sat up, suddenly alert.

"Stiles? What the—what time is it?"

"4:30."

"In the morning?"

"Yeah."

"What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep. When did you get in?" I brought my hand to the back of my neck, nervously squeezing and scratching.

"About 2 hours ago. I must have fallen asleep while doing paperwork."

"Why don't you go up to your room and get some real sleep? I'll get all of this." I said, gesturing to the papers.

"I'll go up soon. And so will you. Stiles, you look exhausted. You haven't…are you getting nightm—"

"No. No, I'm not getting—no. I'm okay…really dad. Just been a little stressed about school lately. Nothing you need to worry about." I chewed nervously on my fingernail, looking at my dad's worried expression and feeling like a little kid again.

"Are you sure you're okay? You seem…I don't know…off lately. Anything you want to talk about?"

"Dad, I'm fine. It's just stress. It'll pass, and I'll be back to my usual, hyperactive self again."

My dad put his hands up in defeat. "Alright, alright. I trust you. But hey. Kiddo, if there's something going on, you can always talk to your old man, okay?"

I nodded. "Okay. Thanks dad."

He smiled and patted my shoulder before trudging up the stairs.

Before I knew it, the sun was carefully climbing the sky, the early dawn light making the living room look all different shades of pinks and oranges. I rubbed a hand over my face as I shuffled up the stairs. I was exhausted. All of the energy had totally and completely drained out of my body and now only a shell remained. A cold, pale, lifeless exterior. Barely going through the motions without the energy to put any emotion into them.

As tired as I was, I couldn't sleep. My body was drained, but my mind was still running in circles around in my head. I trudged into the bathroom and studied myself in the mirror. I looked worn-out and run-down. There were dark purple smudges under my eyes. They made me look hollow. My skin was pale and dry. My eyes looked…different. I couldn't really say what it was in particular, only that they weren't always this color. I turned on the sink and splashed my face with cold water, trying in vain to wake myself up a little. It brought some color back to my cheeks, but only for like 3 minutes.

When I arrived at school, everything seemed noticeable. I noticed everything. Like that the girl who's locker is next to mine had to try her lock combination 6 times before it finally opened. Or that the guy who sits in front of me in math class smelled like strawberry Cheerios and toothpaste. Or that my Spanish teacher always rolls his sleeves up, but his right arm is pulled higher than his left.

When lunch finally rolled around, I found my usual seat beside Scott. I tossed my backpack onto the lunch table, completely forgetting that I put the pill bottle in the side pocket just in case I thought I needed another pill. The bottle rolled onto the table, and I let out a short gasp before reaching to grab them. Scott looked up from his food just in time to watch me flail awkwardly to catch the rolling bottle of pills.

"What are those?" He asked, pointing to the bottle with his white plastic fork.

"Wha—oh, these. These are… nothing. Just uh—nothing. What's for lunch?" I stumbled over my own words.

"Stiles, what are those?" He asked again, ignoring my dumb question.

I looked at him, wanting to say something, _anything,_ but I was at a loss for words. Scott caught me. I can't bullshit my way through this one. Scott picked up his backpack and grabbed my arm, pulling me behind him out of the cafeteria.

"Scott, no, wait. Where are—Scott what are you doing. Stop, just let me—Scott!"

He didn't acknowledge my babbling, and continued towing me until we walked through the door to the boys' bathroom.

"Okay, Stiles. Wanna tell me what's going on?"

"Scott, it's nothing. They're nothing. Just some old meds for my ADHD. No big deal."

"I think these—" he grabbed the bottle out of my hand and held them in front of me. "are a pretty big deal. Stiles, these are like, legitimate drugs. You could get in so much trouble if the school found out you were carrying them around here."

"They already know, Scott. They have my medical files."

"Stiles, you've been on Adderall since we were kids; eight years old. I had to remind you to take it when you slept over at my house. My mom probably has a bottle for you in the house somewhere because you spent so much time there when we were little. These pills became a part of my life too. So I think I'm at liberty to say that I know a thing or two about them. And I know that you're only supposed to take one pill every morning by mouth, never on an empty stomach. You wouldn't even need to have them at school with you unless you were… Please Stiles, tell me I'm wrong. Tell me you have this under control. Look at me, and tell me you're okay."

I stared at him, my mouth hanging open in awe. He waited for me to say something. But I couldn't. I couldn't keep lying anymore. I've lied to my dad everyday these past four weeks and it's beginning to put me in physical pain. When I look at him, all I feel is guilt, eating away at my insides and digging it's way to my heart. I couldn't do that with Scott. I don't think I would survive. So I stayed quiet. Silently screaming at him to help me.

He nodded, as if reading my mind. "Okay. We're going home. You and me. Come on." He slid the pills into his jacket pocket and put an arm around my shoulders, gently guiding me out the doors and to my Jeep. He and I both knew something was really wrong when I didn't even object to him digging in my pocket for the keys and climbing into the drivers seat. Scott was taking control. I was letting him. It felt good.

10 minutes later we pulled into Scott's driveway. He cut the engine and got out of the car. I followed in suit, walking behind him to his front door.

"Mom's at work." He stated as he swung the door open. He walked in and dropped his backpack on the floor next to the couch and I did the same. "I'm going to grab us something to drink, and then you're going to explain what's going on."

I nodded, shifting my weight nervously and crossing and uncrossing my arms.

He came back with two sodas, 7-Up for him and Coke for me. He gestured for me to sit on the couch, so I did.

"Thanks." I said softly when Scott handed me my drink. We drank in silence for a while, neither of us knowing where to start. Finally Scott broke the silence.

"How long?"

"A few weeks… month at most."

"So that medication wasn't for your dad."

"I—no. No, it wasn't"

"Why did you do it? I mean…what made you need them again?"

"I don't—I don't know. School maybe?" I nodded, as if I was agreeing with myself. "I told myself it was school but…I guess I don't really know. I just… I felt like everything was collapsing on top of me, you know? Like I was being crushed. I couldn't breathe, there was so much…pain. A-and it wasn't just me it was…it was everyone around me. The pills made it better, I guess. They made the world seem like it wasn't so bad." I had been staring at my hands while I was talking, but when I brought my gaze up to Scott, there were tears in his eyes.

"Stiles…" he started. But I guess he didn't know what to say to me, because his voice caught in his throat and he paused. But then he sniffed and started up again. "I don't… I can't tell you that it's going to be okay. I can't say that the world isn't as bad as you think. I can't promise that I can take all of the pain away. Because if I said those things, then I would be lying to my best friend and I don't think I could do that. I wish there was some way to make it better, to make it okay. But I don't know how."

Scott paused and looked at his soda can, his jaw clenched and his eyebrows furrowed. I felt like a complete jerk for dragging him into this. He didn't need my problems piled on top of his own. He looked up at me, his expression softened a bit.

"I can tell you…that I won't let you fight the bad guys alone. This world, this…craziness that has become our lives, yeah, it's scary. There are werewolves and banshees and kanimas and freaking demons but… you're not alone. You will never be alone. You're my brother Stiles. I would never leave you alone on the battlefield, and I would never leave you alone now. You can do this, you can fight this, I will help you. But you have to trust me. Trust me, and know that everything is eventually going to get better."

"We can't save everyone Scott." I mumbled.

"We can try. We can always try. And if I could tell you one thing, it would be that you are never as broken as you think you are. Sure, you have a couple of scars, and a couple of bad memories. But then again, all great heroes do."

I looked at Scott, my face twisted in confusion. "I—I'm not a hero, Scott. I can't… do the things that you can do I can't…I'm not…strong enough I'm not b-brave enough." Tears brimmed my eyes and threatened to spill over. I tried to blink them away but I couldn't. They fell steadily onto the sleeve of my hoodie. "Scott, I can't do it. I c—I can't do it. I'm not a hero. I'm too weak and too—I'm not a hero. I'm nothing special. I can't be a hero."

Scott gripped my shoulders and turned me towards him. "You are. You are strong enough. You are brave enough. You are smart enough. You are a hero. Stiles, you're my Batman. Okay? And guess what? Batman isn't a werewolf. Batman is just a regular guy who wanted to help people. So that's what he did. Bruce Wayne became The Dark Knight. He was the one who saved his city. And he didn't need to be some supernatural being. He just needed to care about saving people."

Scott pulled me towards him, wrapping his arms around me and holding tight. I did the same, twisting my hands in his shirt and gripping tight. More tears spilled over and onto Scott's shoulder. I squeezed my eyes shut, afraid that when I opened them this would all be gone. That this was just some crazy dream. Slowly, I allowed my eyes to open, just a little. To my relief, I was still sitting on Scott's couch, and his arms were still wrapped around me. It was real. I let out an involuntary sigh and smiled to myself.

When Scott pulled away, I was still wearing a watery grin, but it was okay because Scott's expression matched mine.

"It's going to be okay, Stiles." Scott said softly.

"We both know you can't promise that." I said with a slight laugh.

Scott grinned. "I know. But I thought you might need to hear it anyway."

I quickly looked down at my hands and back up at Scott. "Thanks, Scott."

Scott clamped his hand down on my shoulder. "I'm going to help you through this. I'll stick with you, even when the only thing you want is to be alone."

"I'm going to hold you to that." I said with a smile.

"Please do." Scott said, nodding once.


	3. Chapter 3

**Lydia's POV**

It takes about 12 hours for Adderall to wear off completely. It takes about 12 hours before you can actually get a decent amount of sleep. That means that if you take a pill at, say, 3pm, your mind won't actually start to calm down until 3am.

Scott called me after Stiles left his house on Friday. He told me about the pills, and what Stiles said about the world collapsing on top of him, and how the pills somehow seemed to make it better. That same night, I spent hours learning everything I could about D-Amphetamines Salt Combination. I looked up the basics, the side effects, what other pills you could and couldn't take with them, the risks, everything.

Scott told me over the phone about how Stiles wasn't sleeping. I could hear in his voice how concerned and genuinely scared he was for his friend.

_"I knew there was something going on, I just…didn't realize how serious it was 'till now."_

_"Scott, don't beat yourself up about this. We couldn't have known—"_

_"I should have seen it sooner though. I'm his best friend! I should notice these things. I should have seen it earlier, maybe I could have helped before it got this bad, you know?"_

_"I get it. Do you—I could talk to him if you think that would help. Just to see if there's anything he needs that he hasn't asked for."_

_"He probably thinks he's a burden, like asking for help would be bothersome and selfish."_

_"Mmhmm." I agreed. "I'll try calling him. I'll text you if anything new pops up."_

_"Thanks, Lydia. I really appreciate it."_

_"Don't worry about it. I care about him as much as you do. We'll pull him through this."_

_"Yeah, you're right. We've got this."_

_"I'll talk to you later, Scott."_

_"See you, Lyd."_

I called Stiles not 5 minutes after I got off the phone with Scott. He agreed to let me come over, on the condition that we watch the Fantastic Four. The first one though, because the second one "is so poorly written it hurts to watch," as Stiles put it on the phone. I stood outside of the Stilinski home and rang the doorbell.

"It's open!" I heard him call out. The door swung open revealing Stiles, dressed in an old Weezer t-shirt with a giant pair of glasses on the front, a red hoodie, and brown corduroys. I walked into his living room as Stiles dug through his stacks of DVDs for today's movie selection. I set my purse on the coffee table and then watched him. I folded my arms across my chest and pursed my lips. When Stiles finally looked up from his endless stacks of films, his expression went from excited to confused to a look of realization.

"Scott told you." He stated rather than asked. I gave him a half-hearted crooked smile to confirm his statement. "Figured he would. I, uh, I'm kind of glad he did, you know? One less awkward conversation to have."

"Stiles—"

"I know, I know. Why. Right? That's what you want to know? That's why you asked to come over?"

"I asked to come over because I wanted to talk. Not necessarily about the pills. Just…to talk."

"I don't want to talk." Stiles muttered, playing with one of the strings of his hoodie.

"I know. But I think you need to." Stiles froze and flicked his eyes from his sweatshirt to the space between me and the couch, his mouth parting ever so slightly.

I took a small step forward. "I know this isn't something you want the world to know about, so I'm not going to make it a huge deal. You want it between you, me, and Scott. I can respect that. But I can't ignore it and act like everything is okay because everything is not okay. You are not okay."

"I'm f—"

"You're not fine. You're exhausted; you look like you got hit by a bus. You may not feel it because the Adderall hasn't worn off yet, but it will eventually and when it does…" I paused and took a breath. "When it does, you're going to feel sad and empty and overwhelmed. You're going to feel the weight of the world on your shoulders because the crutches that have been holding it up for you have snapped and it's all on you now. Except it's not. There are people, people who won't snap under the weight. People who will take some of the load off. People who will help you see that the world isn't as heavy as you'd think it'd be. People who will remind you everyday how much you mean to them, how much you matter, and without you the weight would be too much and the world would crush them. People like your dad, like Scott, like me."

Stiles' eyebrows were furrowed gently. His expression was stoic, but his eyes begged me to help him. I took another step forward, cautious and careful. He didn't seem like he could string words into sentences quite yet, so I kept going.

"And when you're done, when you've made it to the finish line and fought your way through each and every battle…you can finally say that you won the war. That you conquered your hamartia; that you carried the weight of the world through hell and back. You can be free, and you can live again."

Stiles blinked several times. His whole head followed the movement of his eyes as he searched for somewhere to rest his vision. Finally, it landed on me. Stiles shifted his weight and worried at his bottom lip before abruptly fumbling to find his sweatshirt pocket and shoving his hand inside of it. When he pulled it back out, he held an orange pill bottle in his grip. He shook it a bit.

"This is all I've got." He said barely above a whisper. He cracked a smile for a split second, a smile that masked the sadness, but didn't quite reach his eyes. "They're the only things…that stay the same. Things change, people change but these…these don't change. They've been the same since I was eight, and they're the same now. A-and half of me… wants the stop to, throw them away o-o-or flush them down the toilet and just be done with them." He paused and wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb. "But another half doesn't. The other half likes the feeling of being able to conquer anything. The other half wants to keep that feeling of invincibility and security forever. The other half of me wants to keep taking the pills until they run me into the ground so deep you'll never find me."

I took another step closer to him. "So…which half," I began, very slowly and softly. "would you rather become whole? Who is the person you want Stiles Stilinski to be? Is it the person who is all alone, and who needs pills to get through each day? Or is it the person who doesn't need them because he has people who love him, to fill in that empty space in your chest?"

I closed the space between us and gently placed my hands on the one of his that was holding the pill bottle. I slowly wrapped my fingers around the cylindrical plastic and worked at it until Stiles allowed me to remove it from his grip. I dropped the bottle onto the floor and took his hands in mine. We were so close I could feel each minute tremble that shook his frail frame. Stiles leaned into me and I snaked my arms around him. Silent tears escaped his eyes and fell steadily onto my shoulder.

"I don't want to be like this." Stiles whispered into my shirt.

"I know." I whispered back. I placed my hands on his biceps and pushed him up so we were eye to eye. I smiled and bent down. When I came back up, I held the Fantastic Four DVD in my hand. Stiles sniffed and grinned at me. I led him over to the couch and sat him down while I went to set up the movie. I turned off the lights and plopped down next to him. He shifted and rested his head underneath my chin. I reached up and started playing with the tufts of brown hair, twisting them around and in between my fingers. I felt Stiles relax his body and let it melt into mine. I smiled to myself, taking pride in his trust towards me.

Halfway through the movie, Stiles began drifting off. Which I had seen coming, considering he probably hadn't slept well in at least a few weeks. His head fell on my chest, until Stiles jerked it back up, only to let it fall again. Eventually, I shifted both my own body, as well as his, so that his head was cradled in my lap. Stiles sighed and yawned in his sleep, mumbling something about curly fries before falling back into a deep sleep.

We stayed like that even after the movie ended and the credits rolled though. We stayed like that, comfortable in each others silence, the only noise being the breath that escaped through Stiles' lips as he slept.

After a few hours, Stiles' father came home from work. When he saw us on the couch, his expression went from angry to confused to a look of realization. Only then did I realize just how similar the Stilinski men were. The sheriff came around to the front of the couch and carefully lifted Stiles off of my lap. He carried him up the stairs and presumably into Stiles' bedroom.

I was getting my shoes and my coat on when Mr. Stilinski came back down the stairs. He came over to me and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"I, um, just wanted to thank you…for whatever you did earlier. I don't know much about what is going on with my son. I'm sure Scott filled you in as well, but that is as far as my knowledge extends. I do know, however, that that was the best he's looked in almost a month."

"Oh." I said, looking down at my hands. "It wasn't really, um, anything special. We just talked for a while and watched a movie, before he, you know, kind of fell asleep on me."

The sheriff smiled. "Anyway, I just wanted to thank you. I really appreciate what you did for my son. He's lucky to have friends that care about him even when he doesn't want to care about anything."

"Don't worry about it. He knows we're here for him. If anything happens, you can always call.  
"I will. Goodnight, Lydia."

"Night, Sheriff."

The door shut behind me as I walked towards my car. Suddenly, I heard a tapping noise. I spun around, but no one was there. Something tapped again. I looked up, to see Stiles standing in his window frame. I smiled and waved up at him. He held a sheet of paper against the glass that read: THANK YOU in all caps. I mouthed back "you're welcome." Stiles smiled before he drew the shades and disappeared from view. I got in my car, but sat for a while before turning on the engine. I smiled to myself, and pulled out my phone. I typed out a new message to Scott.

**I think he's going to be okay.**


End file.
